Embers
by not bitter just twisted
Summary: Mick looks back at his life, and the one person who has influenced it the most.


**Well, Yo yo yo! This is a random one-shot I'm writing for PULL (for info see ****Bookaholic711****'s profile or mine). I was just thinking about something and this came to my mind, so enjoy. This is set just after Coraline is taken away by her brother, so read...**

Embers

_It takes a certain kind of person to not only doubt your decisions, but to doubt your doubt._

Mick mused this as he settled onto his sofa for the night, grateful, at least for his short humanity. Every time he closed his eyes he could see her anguished face as she was dragged away from him, and he lay on the floor helpless to do anything. And why did she do it? To save him, a man who was powerless to fight back because of the humanity that she had given him to try and earn his forgiveness. He could feel her rage; every move she made to try and make things better just had even worse consequences. And now there was nothing he could do for her.

He turned over uncomfortably as he remembered the first day he saw her...

_She was watching him in the audience; he saw her immediately, his eyes drawn as if under a spell. She was different from the stiff party goers; where as they wore black dresses and suits in memory of the dead king, she wore one of blazing scarlet. She was beautiful, and he wasn't the only person to notice. Every eye was drawn to her as she passed by the pool, a sparkler held in her gloved hand and the sparks echoed in her bright eyes. Bright with flame, the darkness and brilliance caught him more than her long lashes, slim form or dark hair. Hers were the only eyes that seemed really alive._

_She came over to him, and he felt a flattered that he had caught her. He didn't realise that to her he seemed exactly as she did to him; smooth, bohemian and really alive. They talked about his music, and she asked him to meet her by the pool after the party, something he was all too happy to do._

_She was sitting by the pool when he got there, her long leg dangling slightly into the pool. She stood up as he approached and glided over. _

'_You don't even know my name.'_

'_Do I need to?' She shook her dark head and licked her lips. He carefully began to unzip her dress, kissing the dark fleur-de-lis tattooed on her shoulder and inhaling her dark, sultry scent._

_He knew that from that moment forward, he could never go back._

Mick felt a tear track slowly down his cheek. She had been so beautiful, and so... alive.

He had tried to forget that night, but as hard as he tried he just couldn't. He had eventually given up and gone to her house, just as one last try. He had peered in at the French windows, banging on the glass as something inside him cried out in need.

She had come to the window and told him to go away, but it was too late. The mere sight of her drove him to a ferocious anger that he couldn't contain, bubbling up like champagne. Mick had looked around wildly until he spotted a piece of garden furniture, and then turned round and smashed the window to get at her. She seemed afraid, but like him she had longed to feel the flames that licked round them when they were together. Their kiss was like an electric current.

Their obsessive love grew, and soon it became too much for them to be apart, and marriage seemed inevitable. Considering the time, it had definitely been the only real option. How was he supposed to know that on the very night he expected to be the happiest of men, his throat was going to be torn out by his smouldering lover. It wasn't really her fault; she thought it was the best option for them to stay together.

Forever.

Their relationship was never the same after then. The flames were still there, but they seemed more like anger than passion, and it was all becoming too much for him. The obsessive, dark passion that seemed to push into him and sicken him with sorrow, anger and horror at what he was. He began to notice things about her; now he knew that she was over six hundred years old they seemed more justified, but her oddness seemed to become more pronounced. Perhaps it was because she knew that she was losing him.

Whatever it was, when she kidnapped the child it was too much- she had gone too far to come back. So he had broken into the house, found the girl and fought his way to the door. She attacked him, but there was no real anger behind it. Just horror and betrayal. _Until death do we part_- but vampires don't die, do they? Not without help. Even in the throes of battle her passionate love was there, and she pushed her lips against his even while they were biting at each other's throats. He had broken a chair and grabbed its point, raising it above her heart. But then he hesitated.

Then he thought of the girl, the shambles that his life had become, and the darkness that tormented his heart. And he brought that stake down so hard that it went through and stuck in the carpet, pinning her there. Her breath rose and fell in pants, but she was still alive. So Mick set fire to the chair, to the house that had held so many good and bad memories, and to his wife. In his mind the flame that was her was engulfed in the flames that he created, saving him from the fire. He was free.

He moved on and got his PI job, a new apartment and gave himself the task of keeping an eye on the girl she had taken. However, there was always the shadow of _her_ over everything, burning up all joy.

Beth grew up, and Mick found himself saving her again. Then she saved him, and his secret was revealed. They became closer, and he fell in love with the girl he had rescued from his ex-lover. Their love was different from his last love: warm, like a bright candle rather than a destructive inferno. A heated, caring relationship rather than an obsessive, self-destructive one. He loved her.

Then he saw her again. But she said her name was Morgan, and she wasn't a vampire. He found himself begin to fall into the furnace anyway, despite all his reservations. He kept telling himself to remember Beth, but it was too late. He had fallen.

Morgan assured him that she wasn't his ex-wife, and he bonded with this human girl after a case. But then he had found her in the shower later, and she had it. The tattoo. The same tattoo of a fleur-de-lis that _She_ had been marked with since she had been a courtesan in the seventeenth century... the same mark which proved that she was exactly who he thought she was.

But she was human! She told Mick that she had done it for him, that she wanted his forgiveness and maybe, one day, his love. Then Beth had found out who she was and stabbed her in the heart, despite knowing she was human.

Mick could have strangled her when she had done it. All that guilt, all that longing, and then Beth had ended it so quickly! Thank god she had survived. But then she had always been strong. Always tough.

Everything was beginning to look up, despite everything. He was finally human again, albeit temporarily. And then her brother came, his anger making him stronger and more terrible than she had ever been, and he had taken her away for punishment whilst Mick in his human form was powerless to stop it.

So now she was gone. Mick gave a mirthless laugh. He wasn't even sure if she was alive. What could he do? Nothing. And why should he help the woman who had ruined his life, ruined his heart and then, when he was at last satisfied, came back from the grave to try and ruin his new love?

He was well shot of her. He could now have a happy life with Beth, and her warm, comfortable love that made his heart flip over slightly. Who knows, maybe she'd one day join him in this living death. He was happy and glad to have her. So why did he feel this never ending discomfort, this pain, this longing, this downward spiral of hunger and need for something more than just blood...

No. He would be happy with Beth. Mick closed his eyes and pushed his head back on the pillow, trying to sleep. But as he drifted off, he felt himself searching once more.

Searching for Coraline.

Longing to hold the embers that she had become, to love her until there was nothing left.

Only ashes.

**Okay, it's done! What do ya think? Good? Bad? Boring? Flame-worthy? Icky? Whatever you feel, please review. Or don't, I won't try and persuade you in any way. My sexy, sexy readers.**


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